


veni, vidi, amavi (i came, i saw, i loved)

by baechuzz



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gothic, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Past Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno, Slow Burn, Vampire!Jaemin, Yearning, incubus!haechan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baechuzz/pseuds/baechuzz
Summary: “Whom can I greet in you?” Jaemin asked, silver eyes looking Jeno up and down with a tight-lipped smile. He trusted the letter of invitation out, flushing at the sight of the dog-eared page.“I’m Lee Jeno, Mr Na. I’m the painter you’ve requested.”Jaemin took the paper with barely masked confusion and ran through the invitation. His fingers tightened on the paper, fingertips whitening as he read on. When he finished, he neatly folded the paper and tucked it away into his pocket.“Ah, indeed,” he said with curled lips. “The painter I’ve requested.”
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Lee Jeno, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	veni, vidi, amavi (i came, i saw, i loved)

"This is the place, sir," the coach driver said, deliberately avoiding eye contact with him. He stared ahead, gazing straight at the imposing building in front of them, placed on the top of a small hill. It was surrounded by pine trees, carefully hiding it away from the untrained eye.

Jeno peeked out of the carriage with furrowed eyebrows.

"Can't we go a little further?" he asked. It was still a good amount of uphill walk that he wouldn’t wish to make with his painting equipment and luggage.

The coach shook his head. The horses were making noises that struck Jeno as odd – they were well-behaved creatures, used to the noises of the city. Yet, out there in the middle of the vast nature, they grew anxious. Jeno listened for the sounds of the wilderness but heard nothing – the pine forest around them was surprisingly silent, almost eerily so.

“No, sir. I shall not trespass. You, on the other hand, have an invitation,” he said. He didn’t wait for an answer as he jumped off the driver’s seat, immediately opening the door for Jeno. His urgency to disappear from here made Jeno just wonder if staying here was a good idea. The invitation letter was burning in his inner pocket, creased and smudged from the constant re-reading, and Donghyuck’s words sat heavy in his head, reminding him what he should exactly do.

_ Do not crumble, _ he said.  _ It is your time to redeem yourself. _

Of course, he’d heard of the infamous Na Jaemin. Scandals spread easily and the conditions amongst which Na Jaemin was living in presented fertile soil for the seed of doubt. Jeno heard all the rumours surrounding his person – about his dangerously handsome features, his ruthless and cruel tendencies and his endeavours of steering clear from any human contact even at his ripe age of twenty-three. Jeno thought he heard too many hushed whispers about Jaemin during his stays with wealthy families that they almost led to shattering his own perceptions of a tragic soul who just lost too many.

Fortunately, Jeno was one not to be shaken by mere murmurs. He was, on the other hand, diverted by burning lips pressed close to his ear that were committing thoughts of Na Jaemin to his mind with shameless ease. Excitement rushed through his body at the nearness of the main resident of his thoughts, finally morphing into a real body.

He thanked the coach driver, paid and said his farewells with a promise to send for him when he was to be finished with his piece. The man solemnly nodded and climbed back on his seat. Before he drove away, he looked at Jeno.

“Sir, I do not wish to sound patronizing but – please, be careful.”

Jeno smiled at him but his expression didn’t mirror on the driver’s face. He turned around with his horses and drove off before Jeno could’ve said anything. For a long moment, he just stood there and watched as the carriage disappeared on the horizon, the only piece of the city disappearing alongside with it.

If he knew the real reason Jeno was there, he wouldn’t be so concerned with his wellbeing.

_ What a good start _ , Jeno thought as he heaved his luggage and equipment and began walking toward the gaping entrance of the Na estate. The home of a man whose family was destroyed, a bloody murder which had no lead — the local detectives were falling over each other to grab the opportunity for glory, only each to fail spectacularly. The only one who survived, a young man, was shaken to the core. He was unable to answer questions nor could he be reduced to be the murderer. It bloomed from there, Na Jaemin, last survivor of the glorious Na family, was seen as the cold-blooded murderer of his own parents and little sister — a murder for power, a murder for money.

From that night on, Jaemin retired from the societies, choosing to remain in exile. 

It was still a mystery just what happened with the Nas, so loved and respected by everyone — but Jaemin’s name continued to be tarnished.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as Jeno thought about stepping into the threshold of the Na estate. Donghyuck told him so many things — but he was deceitful and tricky, and however he tried to charm Jeno into believing every one of his words, but when the time came and his mind had no longer been filled with a lustful haze, he very much doubted him. Still, he absentmindedly tightened his grip on the kit Donghyuck swore him to take, a good reminder of safety.

Dusk was falling down, the forest darkening into looming shadows. He wasn’t really superstitious like many were in the city but the feeling of being watched in his lonesome self was burning in the back of his mind. He didn’t dare to look around, afraid of finding something that would haunt him forever. The forest had never been kind to him, it had never given him haven. He quickened his steps on the beaten path, finding solace in the thought that somebody took this route so many times, it became trodden.

He reached the house quicker than he first estimated, his feet carrying him faster, fueled by this odd mixture of the excitement and the fear he felt. Sweat trickled down on his brows despite the chilling weather. 

Jeno looked up at the house rising above him, the monumental building which was too big for only one person and staff. The last rays of the sun painted the white walls with orange hues, giving it an uncanny warmth against the poisonous greenness of the forest embracing the building. This was to be his temporary home.

_ Please, be careful _ , the last words of the coach driver echoed in his mind as he stood on the top of the porch.

He quickly adjusted his top hat before he took the knocker and thumped on the door. He was waiting for a maid or a butler to open the door – but rather, the heavy oak door swung open revealing no other but the owner of the estate. Na Jaemin stood in front of him in all of his glory, tall and commanding.

Rumours didn’t do him justice as the young man standing before Jeno was even more striking than he was in the hushed words. He wasn’t dressed properly, not that Jeno expected it from someone who lived alone in the middle of nowhere – he only wore a shirt, his vest and jacket missing and a few buttons popped open, revealing a trickle of skin. His hand ran through his raven black hair to discipline the unruly locks with no success. Despite the grace of his movement, tension reflected on him. His expression hollowed as he stared at Jeno.

“Whom can I greet in you?” Jaemin asked, silver eyes looking Jeno up and down with a tight-lipped smile. His deep rumble of voice shook Jeno out of his reverie. He dropped his luggage and painting equipment on the hardwood and he winced inwardly while he scrambled for the invitation. He trusted the letter out, flushing at the sight of the dog-eared page.

“I’m Lee Jeno, Mr Na. I’m the painter you’ve requested.”

Jaemin took the paper with barely masked confusion and ran through the invitation. His fingers tightened on the paper, fingertips whitening as he read on. When he finished, he neatly folded the paper and tucked it away into his pocket.

“Ah, indeed,” he said with curled lips. “The painter _ I’ _ ve requested.”

There was something in the way he said that but Jeno didn’t have time to dwell on it because Jaemin opened the door wider and stepped aside to let Jeno into his home. He saw Jaemin’s eyes flash behind him for any other sign of life but his shoulders relaxed when there was no one else.

“Then, please, be my guest,” Jaemin said and motioned him inside. “I’m a bit unprepared for guests, please pardon me, Mr Lee. I didn’t think you’d turn up.”

Jeno, busy placing his belongings inside the house, missed the faint edge in his voice. Still stunned by finally seeing the subject of oh-so-many tittle-tattle and Donghyuck’s rushed words, Jeno had a hard time meeting with those haunting silver eyes. They had an entertained glint in them when he did at last.

Jeno’s fingers itched for his charcoal to try and depict the depth of his gaze, his chiselled jawline, his sly smile. Something was odd about him but Jeno couldn't really place his finger on what exactly. The way he carried himself was closed off yet curious, keeping a small distance between them, hands neatly folded behind his back.

“Why wouldn’t I turn up?” Jeno asked when he was finished with his last bag. Jaemin was watching him, leaning his shoulder on the wall but at his question, a small burst of laugh left his lips.

“What a gentleman you are, Mr Lee. But I know my reputation precedes me.” Jaemin waved him off. Sadness tingled in his voice, sounding aloof and lonely. The man in front of Jeno was the same as the stories, yet nothing alike – besides his outer appearance which was underestimated, his rumoured hostile behaviour was nowhere to be found. At least not yet. Maybe it was too soon to say, too soon to be charmed by the young man — but those silver eyes held him hostage and Jeno wasn’t sure he was ready to be let go.

“I like to judge a man’s character myself, Mr Na. All the hearsays, they mean nothing to me.”

Jaemin’s eyes flickered down at one particular carrying case, at the kit Donghyuck made sure he took, and he cocked his head to the side. 

“That’s very brave of you, Mr Lee. I was afraid rumours of me stealing virgin maidens or having a pact with Satan himself might have created an impression on you,” he joked. Jeno chuckled, good-natured, at the ridiculous rumours that spread in the higher circles of society like wildfires. Jaemin lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “Say, Mr Lee, do you know a certain Lee Donghyuck? He’s from the city.”

Jeno blinked, surprised. He knew Donghyuck had known Jaemin, his descriptions were too detailed not to – but having him come up so soon stunned him.

"Yes, of course. I don't think there's one person who does not know him in the higher circles."

Jeno opened and closed his mouth, not sure if he should share more. Whenever Lee Donghyuck was invited to a ball or a party, he was highly entertaining but also way too flirty with anything that walked. Not only he stole kisses and intimacies from the daughters and sons of the wealthy but he also liked to spread rumours just to shake the society up a little – one of his favourite subjects being Jaemin himself.

Jaemin snickered behind his hand at Jeno’s troubled expression.

"I expected as much. He’s a mutual friend, then. Source of many of my ridiculous rumours," he sighed. He reached for one of Jeno’s luggage to help him but when Jeno made a move to it as well, he pulled back immediately. There was an awkward atmosphere around him but Jeno didn’t mind it, not yet. Jaemin’s long eyelashes sprawled on his cheeks as he massaged his temples. "But what to do with old friends like him?"

“And are you… okay with that?” Jeno asked while he gathered his things.

“I asked him to do so. To be honest, I didn’t think he’d go to lengths like these but — people  _ do  _ stay away.” Jaemin turned away, now facing the window and watched the sun disappear behind the horizon. For a moment, a stray sunray broke through the impenetrable wall of pine trees. “Also, however difficult and annoying he is, Donghyuck is my only tie with the outside world right now.”

Jeno could finally have a good look at him, of his side profile. Seeing his features highlighted by the last golden hues of the sky made Jeno want to clasp his hand around the silver necklace he was wearing. Unholy thought filled his mind, something his step-father thought he’d successfully beaten out of him – but the long column of his neck, the shadows that dipped beneath his shirt under his collarbone, his stature and beautiful face moved something in Jeno he wasn’t proud of.

Prayers did not help if you were already a sinner.

He wanted to capture him on paper – this ethereal young man, so closed off from the world yet still haunting the people, making them starve for a piece of him. He wanted to run his fingertips on his skin to see if he was real, to have this phantom of a man grow real under his touch.

“Why do you want people to stay away?” he asked, at last, forcefully breaking himself out of his daydream.

Jaemin stepped back from the window, the shadows embracing him once again, engulfing his body until he himself turned into a shadow. In the dark, only his eyes glinted artificially, the silver colour almost warm.

“It’s better like that. For them and as well for me,” Jaemin answered without really answering the question. Jeno accepted nonetheless, not feeling in himself the need to further press on the matter. He was tired of the excitement, the journey and the walk, of seeing this chastised ghost of tales taking form in front of him.

Jaemin took a few seconds to just take Jeno in, making him feel self-conscious under the spotlight of his attention. Jeno didn’t want to misinterpret his expression as longing.

“But maybe I do need some company. At least, Donghyuck thinks so.”

Jeno wondered what the relationship between Jaemin and Donghyuck was. He didn’t talk of him fondly, neither did Donghyuck as he pressed words of Jaemin with his lips onto his neck or when he encouraged Jeno into this madness. For all he knew, they might be enemies. Jeno shook off this thought.

“Maybe he’s right,” he agreed.

Jaemin straightened up, his shoulders were broad and his poise was impeccable. With his chin up, a warm smile spread on his lips – in the shadows where he stood, his teeth looked sharp like the edge of the knife in Jeno’s luggage and a shiver ran down his spine. Transfixed, he stared until the smile withered and Jeno immediately missed it.

“Let me show you your room.”

***

Jaemin led him upstairs, back straight as they mounted the creaking stairs. He didn’t talk and Jeno didn’t dare to break the heavy silence that built up between them. Rather, he paid attention to his surroundings, in case of ever needing to flee the territory. It wasn’t like he planned to — he was a man on a mission, the promise to Donghyuck and the reminder of glory sitting heavily in his mind. 

It occurred to him just how dark the building was inside. As the sunset dipped behind the horizon, Jaemin didn’t bother to light a gas light or a candle to facilitate their moving. But he seemed to move around easily, even in the hushed dark but Jeno felt lost, feet catching on to the edge of the stairs more than once, making him feel clumsy. All he saw was outlines, dark grey as they hid in the shadows — outlines of heavy oak doors leading to innumerable rooms and paintings hanging on the walls. He couldn’t use them as navigation points as the darkness swallowed the room. 

At one especially loud thud, when Jeno had to reach out for the bannisters, Jaemin turned back to look at him. His eyes were illuminating in the dark as he turned back to Jeno, wide and curious. He almost seemed like he noticed Jeno for the first time.

“I apologise. I’m well adjusted to navigate in the house without any light but I haven’t thought of you,” he confessed. “Here, let me help you.”

His hand hesitantly hovered over Jeno’s arm, unsure of the possibility of being allowed to touch. He quickly overcame his indecision and wrapped his fingers around Jeno’s arms, just above his elbow. The touch was a shock of coldness, chilling to the bone even with the thick material of the jacket Jeno had on. He couldn’t help but flinch as the sudden coldness seeped through him but Jaemin’s hold only tightened on him.

Suddenly Jaemin was close, his face only centimetres away from Jeno’s. He could only see the eyes glowing dangerously close, the silver of his irises almost disappearing, taken over by the overly dilated pupils. His eyes were wide and tense as he stared at him but Jeno had a hunch Jaemin wasn't seeing him. Not when he leaned even closer, his nose almost touching his jaw. Chilly breath danced on his heated skin, creating goosebumps. 

Jeno didn't dare to move, Jaemin being so close to him, a wrong move and his lips touched Jeno's neck. His breathing became shallower, the lack of oxygen burning his lungs. But still, Jaemin stood there, pressed close to him like a Greek statue, carved into marble by talented hands — and Jeno didn't feel worthy to be touched, to be close to him. He should be admiring him from afar, yet the icy cold palm circling his arm grew tighter like he had no intention of letting him go. 

Jeno winced and let out a small sound of discomfort at the pain blooming under Jaemin's hand. It seemed to snap Jaemin out his odd trance and he recoiled, letting his hand drop from Jeno. He pulled away, creating a larger distance between them than any previous moment before until he dissolved into the darkness once again. 

"Pardon me," Jaemin said, a slight tremor in his voice. "It's been a while since I had human contact. Bear with me until I relearn everything."

Jeno blinked, his heart beating erratically. An empty void was born out of Jaemin’s sudden absence and Jeno shouldn't be so affected by the close proximity, but he was. He had to take a moment to gather himself, to pull himself out of his own trance-like state that came over him — his cloudy mind and trembling fingers, a distant ache taking over his body. Something told him inside, the rational part of him that maybe, he should be afraid. Afraid of the unknown that was Na Jaemin, afraid of the supposed danger he manifested. 

But no. Jeno was drawn in by mere stories and locked here by the person. He was very conscious about the sudden change — the change in his wondering whether he should leave stood in contrast to the sudden realization that leaving was the very last thing he wanted to do.

Jeno wondered if he was the victim of enchantment, tricked into willingly walking into a trap and enjoying the stay. 

He forced a smile on his face and hoped it seemed true. He was about to pat Jaemin’s shoulder, a friendly gesture in hope to chase away the clouds of doubt that brewed inside of him, but Jaemin flinched away from the touch. His silver eyes immediately returned to meet with Jeno’s, dripping with guilt. 

“There is no problem,” Jeno said, slowly. He wished to sound reassuring but he found that it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “I hope that I do not impose too much trouble for you as you prefer solitude.”

For a moment, Jaemin looked like a withered flower. Darkness pressed on him, a hollowness that only comes with destruction, a tinge of sadness. But he was quick to straighten his back and hold his chin up — once again regal and untouchable.

“Mr Lee, if I didn’t want you there, I wouldn’t have asked for you,” Jaemin stated, mirroring Jeno’s smile. He turned away, to continue the climb up on the stairs signalling the clear end of the discussion. But then he halted again, peeking over his shoulder. “I just— I would like to ask for your patience and understanding for the time being as I’m in dire need to readjust. But believe me, when I tell, I’m not doing this because I enjoy it, I’m doing this out of necessity.”

Jeno opened his mouth to ask, to have him explain what he exactly meant but Jaemin turned away and they were finished. The silence that settled over them felt familiar like a safety quilt and Jeno decided, he had time to discover Jaemin’s nuances and he wasn’t in a rush yet.

After all, he was the one deciding when this ended.

***

Jeno was a weak man.

He closed his eyes and imagined the way Jaemin’s muscles tightened and relaxed on the way upstairs when he showed Jeno his room. Under the thin material of the shirt, little was left for imagination and Jeno watched his body move, mesmerized. 

His grip on his charcoal tensed as he quickly sketched his host. The drawing looked like a mere copy of the original human, a dull replica. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to capture those taunting back muscles — his lines, his shading never gave back the original. He crumpled up the drawing and threw it at the corner of the room – it wasn’t good enough. He took another paper.

His hands feverishly began to draw those eyes that burned into his memory. They stared right back at him from the paper, long-lashed and strikingly light. Slowly, Jaemin’s face took form in quick lines and blunt smudges, coming alive under Jeno’s talented hands. The dust of charcoal coloured his fingers black, but he didn’t care. Not when the Jaemin he had wished to meet for so long, and his abnormal curiosity about a man who never appeared, yet was a constant character in murmured tales clashed to a final crescendo.

Maybe it was an obsession.

Donghyuck had talked about Jaemin endlessly. He described him as a poet described the vast night sky or the loneliness it comes with, yet it was never enough to dampen the deep-running curiosity in Jeno’s veins. Seeing him in real life brought some kind of rawness inside him, something he thought he left behind in the city. While Donghyuck’s description of Jaemin was more than enough to rile him up, to have him walk willingly into danger – it still didn’t match the real being in front of him.

Jeno was prepared to feel threatened or overbore, he was prepared for Jaemin to be aggressive or agitating. But the Jaemin he saw was just the after product of solitude, the loneliness that everyone thinks they need but after all, it’s just self-destructive. He had awkwardly stumbled upon words, voice deep and husky from being unused; his adamance not to meet Jeno’s eyes; the distance he kept up between them.

He remembered receiving the letter from Jaemin – his breath stuck in his lungs, fingers frozen on the paper as he read the request. The letter opener tumbled out of his careless hands, landing in the hardwood, almost slicing his feet. His immediate thought was to decline. He wanted to crumble the letter and throw it away like he never saw anything. The curves of the lines laughed at him as he stared at them, as he imagined the face of the local mystery.

_ “I know him,”  _ Donghyuck called from the bed as he watched Jeno being enchanted by the sight of the letter. Jeno snapped his head up.

_ “Na Jaemin? You know Na Jaemin?” _ Jeno held up the letter in his hand. He couldn’t help the disbelief slipping into his tone. Mirth danced in Donghyuck’s golden eyes, laughing at the simple question. He took his time answering, stretching between the white sheets like a cat, sniffing out a yawn.

_ “He’s an old friend of mine,”  _ Donghyuck’s answer came, almost bored.

_ “What’s he like?” _

Donghyuck laughed at his eagerness, every line of his body relaxed, sun-kissed skin was barely hidden among the white comforter. He reached his arm out for Jeno, inviting him in, and the letter fell out of his hands, already forgotten. Jeno was weak like that, a flick of a finger and he was on his knees waiting for an order.

Donghyuck didn’t say anything, just pulled him in, tangling their limbs. His plump lips caressed Jeno’s skin, creating goosebumps in their wakes. 

_ “You’ve heard all the crazy stories. Pick one and believe it.” _

_ “They cannot all be true,” _ Jeno furrowed his eyebrows. He let Donghyuck undress him slowly, from button to button, let his lips chase the bare skin with little pecks. Jeno felt his veins filling with molten lust, making him succumb to Donghyuck’s touches.

That was the thing with Donghyuck — golden yellow eyes, inhuman and cruel like his kisses, like his touches, like he himself. Yet, Jeno couldn’t stop himself from clinging to the satisfaction Donghyuck provided him.

_ “Sometimes the tales spread are tamer than the reality,” _ Donghyuck laughed like he just told a joke. He ran his hand through Jeno’s black hair, pulling him closer.  _ “I think you should go.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Maybe you could clear your name. Maybe you could return home.” _

The charcoal in Jeno’s hand snapped in half. Na Jaemin stared back at him from the paper, eyes as lifeless as the man’s in a few rooms away. He bit the inside of his cheeks, the taste of blood disgusting on his tongue.

_ ‘He will taint you,’ _ Donghyuck said, kissing the edge of his lips. ‘ _ You shall not crumble.’ _

But how easy it was to crumble for a man like him, without a catalyzer.

He was used to it, to the weakness that brought him to fall into the waiting arms of a demon — because however much Donghyuck tried to hide his identity, Jeno was brought up in a religious family and he was warned about creatures like him. And yet, Jeno still willingly yielded for his touches, for his kisses. His way to damnation was a bittersweet one.

Jaemin didn’t seem to be made of the same sins as Donghyuck. 

He was too cold, too distant for that. His gravitational pull was not the sweetly tethering lust that made his knees weak and his eyes blinded; it was more like a shimmering on the surface, almost unnoticeable for the naked eye but Jeno was trained to pick up on this, to see that somehow this ghost of a person wasn’t human at all. 

He couldn't understand the motive behind Donghyuck’s suggestion of coming here but he was sure he didn’t do it for the goodness in his heart. But he was sure of his own, his future hidden under his pillow, sharp and cold — just like the heart, it was to stab.

Jeno was there for two things: for one, to clench his unimaginable thirst of finally seeing Jaemin and painting a picture of him for the upcoming decades, to share the fine-boned creature, the painfully beautiful man to haunt the dreams of others not just his own; and second, to _ kill him _ . Because he was a threat to society, something indescribable swelling inside him that was waiting to erupt — and Jeno wasn’t about to wait for it to happen. The Nas deaths were a tragedy, but the next, awaiting ones — Jeno could stop them before they happened.

_ ‘Kill him before he kills you,’ _ Donghyuck told him and slipped a silver-edged dagger into his hands. It was a beautiful piece, something that must have cost a fortune. It felt heavy in his hands — a comfortable weight to keep his two feet planted to the ground.

Kill him, that was what he was going to do.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/chaotic_jaem)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/assabaechu)


End file.
